


A Good Flatmate

by Avice



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Author's Favorite, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, No crazy sex smoke, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Identity, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avice/pseuds/Avice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John’s a bit tired of experiments. Sherlock makes it all worthwhile. </p>
<p>"But then, with a duller flatmate, you would miss out on the tantalising excitement of wondering whether the thick yellowy smoke will actually kill you or just cause permanent damage. You get some, you lose some. Nowhere’s perfect."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Flatmate

He could of course try to find another flat share. Somewhere in London there had to be a place, where you could just come home from work, grab a bite and put your feet up watching a re-run of Saturday’s game without the slightest danger of gun fire, explosions, heads in the fridge, or, like today, a thick yellowy smoke permeating everywhere. 

John located the sofa by scrabbling about and sat down with a sigh. Put his feet up and proceeded to cough. 

Best keep the eyes closed, it was starting to sting a bit. 

But then, with a duller flatmate, you would miss out on the tantalising excitement of wondering whether the thick yellowy smoke will actually kill you or just cause permanent damage. You get some, you lose some. Nowhere’s perfect.

“John?” A question coming probably from the kitchen. Hard to be sure with all the smoke.  
“Yes?”  
“Pass me my phone, will you?”  
“Where is it?”  
“Under the sofa.”  
Of course. That’s where phones are kept. 

He was able to fumble for it. The walk to the kitchen wasn’t an easy one, what with the smoke making it impossible to see, the coughing making moving difficult (those pesky muscles preferring oxygen), and the furniture in the way. But at least the impatient grunts were a helpful beacon in finding the right direction. Better be grateful for that.

“Do _not_ touch the table!”  
Well, this would be the end of the line. He put out his hand and the phone was snatched.  
“So… smoke?”  
“Hmm? What? Yes.”

He could just make out the outline of Sherlock’s figure hunched over… something. And now turning to look at him as he struggled with a bad fit of trying to get air into his lungs.

“What on earth are you thinking, John? Why aren’t you wearing a mask?”

Why, indeed. A justified question if there ever was one. Why didn’t he have his gasmask with him at all times for such situations? Really, how stupid can one be.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare, would you?”  
An annoyed huff and a gasmask was handed over. He put it on. 

Ah, lovely, this breathing and being able to open the eyes. Nice. Life’s small pleasures.

“Do you mind if I open the windows?”  
A long sigh.  
“Fine, if you really must.”

Yes, he really had to. 

What were all these sharp corners that he kept hitting his knees in to? Surely they didn’t have this many coffee tables. 

Ah, now he could almost see the telly, even from the sofa. He turned it on, the smoke clearing rapidly. He took off the mask. A beer would be nice. Maybe Sherlock could pass it to him…

“What are you doing?” Apparently something very offending.  
“Eh? Trying to watch telly?”  
“No, no. I need you to go to St. Bart’s to pick up some lungs Molly’s set aside for me.”  
“Me? Why won’t you go?”

The look said ‘why must I suffer the fool’ in bold letters. No, make that flashing neon letters with glitter. It’s more cheerful.

“Because, John, I’m in the middle of an experiment.”  
Spoken to like a five-year-old. Or possibly only three.  
Right, here he was thinking he had the right to unwind a minute. Silly, silly.  
“Is that so? Well, I better go then, won’t I?”

\---

“Oh, hello John, I… I thought Sherlock would collect these himself.”

So you did, cutie, judging by the lipstick and the mascara. Sorry to disappoint.

“Yeah, he was busy. Some sort of smoke experiment.”  
“Right, of course. He’s always so busy. Wouldn’t have time for… lungs. I mean, collecting them. I mean, coming here all that way and –“

Whatever Sherlock’s interested in, I’m sorry, love, it isn’t you.

“Okay. Thanks for these!”  
“Bye! Hope he likes them!”

Yes, we are all hoping Sherlock likes his delivery of human lungs. God forbid the lungs would displease him.

\---

The smoke was taking on a pink hue. Ha – this time he had been smart, put the gasmask on already downstairs. 

You wouldn’t catch this fellow twice without a gasmask on, no sir, too clever for that.

Sherlock laughed seeing him.  
“Why are you wearing a gasmask?”

Okay, that was a surprising question. He had no witty reply. No reply at all, really. ‘Because of the smoke’ just didn’t seem relevant anymore.

“It’s just water vapour, John. Not harmful in any way.”  
Another amused little titter. 

Just water vapour, John, you dozy sod.

John did not take off the mask, but got himself a beer from the fridge. 

Straws. Would they have straws? Yes, a used one in a soda cup in the sink. He’d had fast-food a couple of days ago. Not having been allowed a proper dinner because a murderer (or was it a kidnapper?) was on the loose. 

You wouldn’t want to catch a criminal properly nourished, no, of course not. If they didn’t hear your stomach grumbling, there might not be a chase, because you could catch them off guard. And where’s the fun in that? Nowhere. Not an ounce of fun in that.

He went to sit on the sofa, opened the beer and lifted the mask a bit, to get the straw in to his mouth. 

Ah. That was better. A nice, cold draught. The telly unfortunately still clouded by the safe, healthy, pink water vapour. 

Well, you can’t get everything you want in this life, now can you. Have to settle for what you’ve got. And damn, if he didn’t put his feet up, yes, he would. Fantastic.

“John… is everything alright?”

The vapour (the perfectly harmless vapour, mind you) was evaporating. Sherlock must have opened a window before sitting down in front of him. Talking would be problematic, the mask not properly in place, the straw attached to it (and his lips). He sighed, pulled it off his face to rest on his forehead. 

You have to learn to pick your fights, give up your gasmask for a second when necessary.

“Yes. All right. Fine, fine.”  
“Sure?”  
If he didn’t know better he’d say Sherlock was concerned about him. Worried even, perhaps.  
“Yep. All’s well.”  
A look of disbelief.  
“I’m fine.”  
“If you say so,” a shrug, a return to the normal state of indifference. 

Hmm. Not quite. A quizzical look kept on him. He sipped his beer. Through the straw.

“If you could move a bit, I think I could see the telly already,” John suggested, pulling the mask over his face, making sure the straw worked.

Sherlock hesitated a minute, but decided to move to sit next to him. 

Football, yes. He knew the score, but a couple of very nice passes were to be expected and there was that questionable offside to be seen again. 

Sherlock sat quite close. The man had no understanding of personal space. Always in his face. 

_And, yes, Sherlock, you do have lovely wide shoulders, but do you have to rest your arm behind me on the back of the sofa. What next, you’re going to – ? Whoa._

He wasn’t going to. He did. He draped his arm over John’s shoulders. 

_That’s a little more than I signed up for. If someone sees this, there won’t be any point in trying to explain them my sexual orientation. As in heterosexual. Straight. Women for me, thank you._

_Okay, admittedly, not a bad feeling, the stroking of my shoulder is quite soothing. This would be more comfortable, if I moved a little closer, yes, like that, and maybe just let my arm rest like this over Sherlock’s torso and place my hand on his thigh. Yes. That’s nice._

_What now? Oh, right, he’s taking the mask off me, fine. Whatever. It was getting quite sweaty. Now it’s easier for me to nuzzle my face against him like this and, yeah, put my arm around him. Mmm. This is nice. Not a soft chest, nice nonetheless, a firm support. Resting against muscle, not bad._

_Lovely the way he strokes my back and my arm. Hmm? That’s quite a pulse he’s got. And why won’t he stay still, what’s with the… Oh. Okay. Trying to wiggle a more comfortable position for something in his trousers. So, that’s how it is. Well. That’s a surprise._

_Wonder what he’s got down there? I always thought he was asexual. Clearly not. In fact he is very aroused. By me. Fancy that._

John started to move his hand slowly lower. 

But wait. Wait. Can’t be too careful.

“What was in that smoke? The earlier one?”  
“Huh? Why?” Distracted, uninterested in his experiment already.  
“Nothing hormonal? Not… crazy-sex-smoke?”  
Sherlock burst out laughing. Took a firm grip on John’s hand and placed it on his cock. A very hard cock.  
“No. No sex smoke, John.”  
He grabbed John’s nape and pressed his lips against John’s. 

Hell, he was kissing Sherlock. Really kissing him. Christ, that tongue. Oh god. More, he needed more of that mouth on his. And yeah, he was totally groping Sherlock. Sherlock was so hard. 

He was fondling another man’s cock. Sherlock’s. God. It was so hot. 

He scrambled to open Sherlock’s trousers. 

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t as straight as he had been ten minutes ago. Have to be open to personal development these days. 

What a beautiful cock he had in his hands. A perfect cock. He stroked it. 

_Sherlock loves this. He loves my hand on his cock. All slick with pre-cum. Definitely nothing asexual about this. Nor anything straight. Yep, most gay, I’d venture._

“John, please,” Sherlock moaned.

_He’s at my mercy. Needs me. His hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer. He wants me to… blow him? I’m not sure… why am I licking his cock then? From the shaft to the tip. Jesus Christ. He’s trembling. He’ll come in a second. I’ll just taste the cum, just lick the tip. Not bad. Really not bad. Okay, just the tip then. No teeth. Watch for the teeth. Hand on the shaft, stroking. He’s pushing in deeper, I can take it. Shit, I want to take it. Keep the suction and remember the tongue. Ouch, he’s pulling my hair out. Well, what do I care. That’s it. Yes. Now._

A spray of semen into his mouth, so fast at first, then pumping slowly until finished, spent. What else can you do but swallow? And lick clean. Really. Gorgeous.

Sherlock pulled him up into his arms. A kiss. On the mouth. 

_Now it’s me, who’s hard. That was amazing. I have to._

John opened his jeans, took himself in his hand. But Sherlock took his hand in his. Made him lie on his back and took off his shirt.

_This is promising. Yes, he sure knows how to work those lips. That mouth on me, yes, please, go lower. Ahh! That hand has jerked off before. Jesus. Even I can’t – !_

John was bucking his hips, back arching, moaning, giving himself to Sherlock. For whatever Sherlock could think of. Sherlock kissed his torso, stroking his cock slowly, slowly. Moving lower, a nibble on the abdomen. 

_Will he do it? He’s teasing me. Go on then, tease me. Take as long as you want to, I don’t care. I will only die. Christ. Just take me. Let me come. Yes!_

He felt the lips wrap around him, the wet heat encasing him. The tongue around him, everywhere at once. The smacking noises driving him wild.

_Where has he learned this? He has had to do this before. Or maybe he’s just studied. He would do that. That’s perfect. The best blow job ever. He’s taking it in deep. Ah. He sure knows how to suck cock. Looks good, too, with my cock in his mouth. Suits him. Very good. Perfect. Yes. Christ. Jesus. I’m going to – ._

John came with a violent gasp. It seemed to last forever. He whimpered out of relief. Jesus.

Sherlock lay down next to him. Kissed his temple as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Feel better?”  
“Shit. Yes.” Hadn’t he always felt this good?

A kiss on his forehead. Gentle strokes on his chest.

“I have an experiment involving substantial amounts of human blood planned for next week. If that’s alright with you?”  
“Depends.”  
“On what?”  
“On how much sex you’re going to have with me.”  
“As much as you can take between now and forever.”  
“In that case – experiment away.”

After all, what’s a bit of experimenting between flatmates. It’s so important to be flexible and considerate.


End file.
